Inkerman. The Battle Field By Moonlight.

Above the vale of Inkerman, Calmly the moon's rays fell, Revealing as by light of day, That deep and lonely dell; Tchernaya's waters as a band Of silver graceful flowed, But who can paint the ghastly scene, Which those bright rays disclosed! Thickly as leaves around the path Through copse and brush-wood dense, Lay piles of dead and wounded men, Slain in that fierce defense. The fearful moan, the struggles fierce, The hoarse and gurgling cry Comes on the night wind sweeping past, Of mortal agony!